W
alt Whitman (or Uncle Walt as Robin Williams referred to him in the film Dead Poet’s Society) has been described as “the world’s poet of democracy.”[1] And, Leaves of Grass is his visionary collection of poetry celebrating his belief in democracy and the individual’s place in it.

Leaves of Grass was published little more than 60 years after the United States constitution was ratified. And, Whitman considered this recently established democratic governance to be an inevitable evolutionary force in human history.

That said, he was in no way under the illusion that a functioning democratic society would either come easily or emerge quickly in the still-young nation of his day.

He also believed that democracy would fail if it was strictly legislative and legalistic. And, contended that a democratic literature was the most essential factor in urging this evolution along. Because:

That which really balances and conserves the social and political world is not so much legislation, police, treaties, and dread of punishment, as the latent eternal intuitional sense, in humanity, of fairness, manliness, decorum, &c. Indeed, the perennial regulation, control and oversight, by self-suppliance, is sine qua non to Democracy; and a highest, widest aim of Democratic literature may well be to bring forth, cultivate, brace and strengthen this sense in individuals and society.[2]

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As long as the country’s imagination remained fueled by literature modeled on works produced under the “opposite influences” of aristocracy and hierarchical, authoritarian structures, Whitman maintained, democracy would never flourish.[3]

When Whitman began writing, American poetry sounded pretty much like its British counterpart. Popular poets of the day, like John Greenleaf Whittier and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, wrote in a manner reminiscent of the Victorian style prevalent in England. Their style revolved around the special, the elect, the few.

So, for reasons pointed out above, Whitman wanted to create an original, distinctly American form and style. One that shifted the focus away from the rich & powerful, and stratified social structures. One that championed the everyday people who make up the heart of democracy. One that quells potential animosity between these everyday people by nurturing understanding and cultivating camaraderie.[4]

Whitman’s primary interest was in the way a democratic self would act rather than the way  democratic society would function. And, he knew that defining this revolutionary new self would require a more equalizing connection between reader and author.[5]

The style Whitman set out to create would be as open, and nondiscriminatory as he imagined an ideal democracy to be. It would reflect the broad spectrum of American experience. And, most importantly, it would be a democratic voice that would serve as a model for society.[6]

And, he did exactly that. Rejecting traditional poetic conventions, Walt Whitman is widely considered to be the “Father of free verse.”[7] This new form of poetry is a loose, informal style, with no rhyme, or no meter. As such, it better captures the natural rhythms of speech.

He constructed a poetry that breaks down the barriers of bias and convention, requiring acts of imaginative absorption on the part of the reader. Whitman’s poetry directly addresses the reader and challenges him to action. All of which results in an enlarging of the self.

Rather than proposing a particular persona, however, Whitman’s Leaves of Grass offers a tool for discovering his own innate wisdom in developing a democratic identity.[8]

The question for Whitman was always one of the “democratic individual” within an “aggregated, inseparable… democratic nationality.”[9]  Which makes Leaves of Grass more than simply the title of a collection of poetry – it’s Whitman’s foundational metaphor for democracy itself.

As Alexis de Tocqueville pointed out in 1835, America has a tendency to think as a country of “I’s,” rather a nation of “us.”[10] But, Whitman expresses unlimited optimism on this issue, one that tormented America’s founders… the fear that individualism would deter the public virtue of aligning our individual self-interest with that of the republic’s.[11] 

In Whitman’s metaphor, the American people are like grass. No two leaves/blades are alike. Each has a certain kind of individuality. Step back, however, and you’ll see that the leaves/blades are more alike than they are different. Americans can be ourselves to the utmost while also sharing deep kinship with our neighbors.

Who are our neighbors?[12]  All the other leaves/blades of grass around us:

Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones,
Growing among black folks as among white,
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressmen, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.[13]

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Together, the individual leaves/blades of grass create a lush, verdant quilt that covers the ground. And, when you stand back far enough, you don’t see individual leaves/blades at all, but an organic unity.[14]

It’s a visual representation of what Whitman expresses in the line, “what I assume you shall assume”— that is, assume that our common interest in our own freedom is what, above all else, unites us as Americans.[15]

The individual leaves/blades haven’t disappeared, however. A closer looks lets us know  they’re still there, unique and vibrant, no two alike. Whitman’s leaves of grass metaphor is an exquisite example of e pluribus unum, from many one.[16]

Song of Myself was given priority as the first poem of the collection Leaves of Grass. And rightly so, because it represents the essence of Whitman’s poetic vision.[17]

Consistent with his grass metaphor for democracy, Whitman’s narrator, the “I” who’s celebrating himself, functions in a dual capacity. He isn’t simply speaking as an individual, but as the voice of an aggregated democratic whole. And, this concept is reiterated throughout the work:

For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. (Section 1)

In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barleycorn less,
and the good or bad I say of myself I say of them. (Section 20) 

I am large. I contain multitudes. (Section 51)[18]

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Whitman’s narrator, the “self” in Song of Myself, is clearly speaking as the voice of a equitable collective.

As noted above, Whitman considered his poem to be, at least in some measure, and American epic. Unlike the epic poetry of Homer, Virgil, or Dante, however, the “self” in Song of Myself isn’t an archetypal hero.

In the Iliad, Homer catalogues the Greek ships, organized according to the importance of the chieftains and warriors they carried. In Paradise Lost, Milton catalogues the major demons who have been cast into hell.

Song of Myself also includes a catalogue. Significantly, the dual capacity on which Whitman’s grass metaphor functions signifies equality within democratic America as well as unity.

So, in keeping with his grass metaphor, Whitman’s catalogue is comprised of everyday American men and women, all one, and all equal.[19] Here is a mere segment:

The conductor beats time for the band and all the performers follow him,
The child is baptized – the convert is making the first professions,
The regatta is spread on the bay… how the white sails sparkle!
The drover watches his drove, he sings out to them that would stray,
The pedlar sweats with his pack on his back – the purchaser higgles about the odd cent,
The camera and plate are prepared, the lady must sit for her daguerreotype,
The bride unrumples her white dress, the minute hand of the clock moves slowly,
The opium eater reclines with rigid head and just-opened lips,
The prostitute draggles her shawl, her bonnet bobs on her tipsy and pimpled neck,
The crowd laugh at her blackguard oaths, the men jeer and wink to each other,
(Miserable! I do not laugh at your oaths nor jeer you,)
The President holds a cabinet council, he is surrounded by the great secretaries, [20]

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Whitman closes his vast list of fellow Americans with the declaration:

By God! I will accept nothing which all cannot have their counterpart of on the same terms.[21]

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Understanding that we’re all equal is significant. And, what Whitman is dramatizing with his famous catalogues of everyday people doing everyday things is quite simple. He’s making them manifest in our imaginations, so we come to understand that these are our brothers and sisters.[22]

But that’s simply at the individual level of the grass metaphor. Whitman also urges us to move away from our tendency for rivalrous individuality, to expand our larger self. For, the actual subject of his American epic is the expansion of consciousness and spirit, mind and heart.

At the level of a united whole which this metaphor also functions on – that is, when we leave hierarchical thinking behind, stop looking up at those who are purportedly superior to us, and down at those who seem less than us – we’re free from false constraints and can live joyously as part of a community of equals.[23]

As noted above, the free verse Walt Whitman is credited with inventing better captures the natural rhythms of speech. This observation is especially important given that Song of Myself appears to be a dialogue between Whitman and the reader rather than a literary performance.

Significantly, this conversational dynamic is consistent with Whitman’s grass metaphor, in that it culminates in a comradeship between poet and reader – a merger of equals.[24]

Even more conducive to creating the impression of conversation than the absence of rhyme or meter is Whitman’s practice of posing questions directly to the reader.[25] For example:

“Have you reckoned a thousand acres much ? Have you reckoned the earth much?
Have you practiced so long to learn to read ?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems? [26]

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The passage above appears at the beginning of the work, and Whitman follows it with a declaration:

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all  poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun… there are millions of suns left,
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand… nor look through the
eyes of the dead… nor feed on the spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from yourself.[27]

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At this point, speaker and reader are two separate individuals, with the poet as teacher. By the end of the passage, however, the poet makes it clear that the reader will eventually no longer be a student, that they will ultimately become equals.

By the middle of Song of Myself, Whitman indicates to the reader that they now play a larger role than merely processing the words on the page:

Listener up there! what have you to confide to me?
Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,
Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.[28]

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Obviously, it isn’t possible for the poet to actually listen to what the reader may have to say. This exchange is meant to set the reader’s emotional and intellectual wheels in motion, as the saying goes. It’s intended to engage the reader in a way beyond that of simply ingesting what Whitman tells them. The reader is no longer taking things at second or third hand… or from the poet for that matter.

In the final segments of the poem Whitman returns to his foundational metaphor:

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your bootsoles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood. [29]

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The speaker and reader have now merged, the poet symbolically filtering the reader’s blood, as fibres in their muscles. In true democratic fashion, they function together to nurture the democracy Whitman is celebrating.

In the poem’s concluding stanza, the speaker’s journey is complete:

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop some where waiting for you.[30]

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And now, it’s the reader’s task to carry the democracy that Whitman’s grass symbolizes forward. Fueled by their expanded self, and the democratic spirit conveyed in the poet’s words.

Whitman was no Pollyanna, however – he understood that democracy is ever vulnerable. He realized that the sight of an egalitarian society – with equal people pursuing their goals and desires – can seem chaotic. So, worship of a king – or some form of autocratic leader – is always tempting.

He admonishes us to remember what the revolutionaries fought for. And, just as importantly, what they fought against. When we forget that, Whitman points out, we’re in danger of lapsing back into the way of kings.[31]  The following passage from A Boston Ballad addresses this ever-present concern:

Clear the way there Jonathan!
Way for the President’s marshal! Way for the government cannon!
Way for the federal foot and dragoons… and the phantoms afterward.

I rose this morning early to get betimes in Boston town;
Here’s a good place at the corner… I must stand and see the show.

I love to look on the stars and stripes… I hope the fifes will play Yankee Doodle.

How bright shine the foremost with cutlasses,
Every man holds his revolver… marching stiff through Boston town.[32]

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Whitman is describing the type of procession seen in countries like Fascist Italy, Communist China, or North Korea. Where the leader is held supreme, and military might is on full display as a threatening reminder to the world…  as well as their own people.

He’s alerting us to what’s taking place when we start seeing such displays of concentrated, dominating power. When that happens, we’ve lost sight of the fact that the American revolution was all about fighting a tyrant wielding  just this type of power. We might as well:

Dig out King George’s coffin …. unwrap him quick from the graveclothes…
box up his bones for a journey :
Find a swift Yankee clipper …. here is freight for you, blackbellied clipper,
Up with your anchor! shake out your sails!… steer straight toward Boston bay.

Now call the President’s marshal again, and bring out the government cannon,
And fetch home the roarers from Congress and make another procession and guard
it with foot and dragoons. 

Here is a centrepiece for them:
Look! All orderly citizens… look from the windows, women! 

The committee open the box and set up the regal ribs and glue those that will not stay,
And clap the skull on top of the ribs and clap a crown on top of the skull. 

You have got your revenge old buster!… The crown has come to its own and more than its own.[33]

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How does Whitman advise us to address the fear of chaos, and avoid such a lapse into king-like authoritarian leadership?

By reaffirming the personal bonds of our democracy. By reminding people that we’re involved in what is likely the greatest and most promising social venture of all time…   And most importantly, by emphasizing that this grand American experiment requires hard work and vigilance.[34]

Ultimately, Whitman’s message is one of connectedness, kinship defined by receptivity and responsiveness to others.  If we can move away from our addiction to rivalrous individuality, and our proclivity toward hierarchy and authoritarian systems, we can embrace his democratic trope of the grass.

Whitman has taken us on a tour of democracy. He’s shown us what we might achieve by following his lead on the subject. When we make this metaphoric grass the national flag, so to speak, we learn to love and appreciate the people around us. We become a community of equals, which makes us less susceptible to tyrannical leaders.

Benjamin Franklin is credited with saying, our form of government is a republic…  if we can keep it. As Franklin well knew, maintaining a repudiation of hierarchy and authoritarian systems is not so easy.[35] Whitman’s benefits don’t materialize simply by reading his poem. It takes work – to expand our minds and hearts, to see those around us as our brothers and sisters,  to see ourselves as part of a united democratic whole. Democracy takes effort – every day, and from every one of us.

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That’s my take on Leaves of Grass — what’s yours?
Check out this Discussion Guide to get you started.

Endnotes:

[1] Betsy Erkkila. In “Walt Whitman: Poet of American Democratic Individualism.” By Walter Donway. Online Library, November 30, 2022
https://oll.libertyfund.org/publications/reading-room/2022-11-30-donway-walt-whitman-poet-american-democratic-individualism

[2] Whitman, Walt. Democratic Vistas. Washington, D.C. 1871. Pp 69-70.

[3] Whitman, Walt. Democratic Vistas.  Washington, D.C., 1871. Pg 5.

Edmundson, Mark. Song of Ourselves: Walt Whitman and the fight for democracy. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2021. Preface.

[4] Edmundson, Mark. Song of Ourselves: Walt Whitman and the fight for democracy. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2021. Preface.

[5] Folsom, Ed. “Democracy.” The Walt Whitman Archive. Gen. ed. Matt Cohen, Ed Folsom, & Kenneth M. Price.

[6] “Walt Whitman at 200.” Poetry Foundation. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/collections/149913/walt-whitman-at-200

Folsom, Ed. “Democracy.” The Walt Whitman Archive. Gen. ed. Matt Cohen, Ed Folsom, & Kenneth M. Price.

[7] Voigt, Benjamin. “Walt Whitman 101.” PoetryFoundation.org  July 1, 2015. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/articles/70243/walt-whitman-101

[8] Hennequet, Claire. “Imagining the Nation. Walt Whitman’s Leaves of grass.”

[9] Whitman, Walt. “Preface, 1872, to As a Strong bird on Pinions Free. (Now, Thou-Mother with thy Equal Brood.)”   Complete Prose Works. Philadelphia: David McKay Publishers, 1892. Pg 279.

[10] De Tocqueville, Alexis. Democracy in America. Book 2 (Influence of Democracy on the feelings of Americans.) Chapter II.

[11] Donway, Walter. “Walt Whitman: Poet of American Democratic Individualism.” Online Library, November 30, 2022
https://oll.libertyfund.org/publications/reading-room/2022-11-30-donway-walt-whitman-poet-american-democratic-individualism

[12] Edmundson, Mark. Song of Ourselves: Walt Whitman and the fight for democracy. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2021. Pg 30.

[13] Whitman, Walt. Leaves of Grass. Washington D.C., 1855. Pg 16

[14] Edmundson, Mark. Song of Ourselves: Walt Whitman and the fight for democracy. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2021. Pg 30.

[15] Whitman, Walt. Leaves of Grass. Washington D.C., 1855. Pg 13

[16] Edmundson, Mark. Song of Ourselves: Walt Whitman and the fight for democracy. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2021. Pg 30.

[17] Greenspan, Ezra, ed. Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself”: A Sourcebook and Critical Edition. New York: Routledge, 2005. Pg 3.

[18] Whitman, Walt. Leaves of Grass. Washington D.C., 1855. Pg 13, 26, 53, 55.

[19] Edmundson, Mark. Song of Ourselves: Walt Whitman and the fight for democracy. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2021. Pg 39.

[20] Whitman, Walt. Leaves of Grass. Washington D.C., 1855. Pg 22.

[21] Whitman, Walt. Leaves of Grass. Washington D.C., 1855. Pg 29.

[22] Edmundson, Mark. Song of Ourselves: Walt Whitman and the fight for democracy. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2021. Pg 27.

[23] Edmundson, Mark. Song of Ourselves: Walt Whitman and the fight for democracy. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2021. Pg 21.

[24] Mason, John B. “Questions and Answers in Whitman’s ‘Confab.’” American Literature. Vol. 51, No. 4 (January 1980) Pg 499.

[25] Mason, John B. “Questions and Answers in Whitman’s ‘Confab.’” American Literature. Vol. 51, No. 4 (January 1980) Pg 493.

[26] Whitman, Walt. Leaves of Grass. Washington D.C., 1855. Pg 14.

[27] Whitman, Walt. Leaves of Grass. Washington D.C., 1855. Pg 14.

[28] Whitman, Walt. Leaves of Grass. Washington D.C., 1855. Pg 55.

[29] Whitman, Walt. Leaves of Grass. Washington D.C., 1855. Pg 56.

[30] Whitman, Walt. Leaves of Grass. Washington D.C., 1855. Pg 56.

[31] Edmundson, Mark. Song of Ourselves: Walt Whitman and the fight for democracy. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2021. Pg 56.

[32] Whitman, Walt. Leaves of Grass. Washington D.C., 1855. Pg 89.

[33] Whitman, Walt. Leaves of Grass. Washington D.C., 1855. Pg 90.

[34] Edmundson, Mark. Song of Ourselves: Walt Whitman and the fight for democracy. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2021. Pg 57.

[35] Edmundson, Mark. Song of Ourselves: Walt Whitman and the fight for democracy. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2021. Pg 32-33.

Images:

Leaves of Grass: 1st edition cover. Public Domain
A distinctly American form and style: Brady, Matthew. Walt Whitman. Public Domain
Whitman’s foundational metaphor: Photo by Fauzan Saari on Unsplash
Song of Myself: Hollyer, Samuel. Steel engraving of a daguerreotype by Gabriel Harrison.  Morgan Library & Museum. Public Domain
The grass metaphor also signifies equality: Photo by Jonny Gios on Unsplash
It’s a conversation: Photo by Matheus camara da silva on unsplash.com
Democracy is ever-vulnerable: Photo by iStrfry , Marcus on Unsplash
In conclusion: Photo by Zacqueline Baldwin on Unsplash

I had thought America was against totalitarianisms. If so, surely it is important for young people to be able to recognize the signs of them. One of those signs is book-banning. Need I say more? ~ Margaret Atwood [1]

F
ollowing the Supreme Court’s recent overturn of Rowe v Wade, Margaret Atwood’s book The Handmaid’s Tale has understandably become the face of activism for reproductive rights. But The Handmaid’s Tale wasn’t intended to be a feminist commentary on the control of women and their reproductive capacities.

Rather, it’s a study in totalitarian systems of government. Atwood’s foundational question?

If you wanted to seize power in the United states, abolish liberal democracy, and set up a dictatorship, how would you go about it? [2]

As Atwood’s quote at the opening of this piece points out, banning books is an early indicator of creeping totalitarianism. And, the number of books being banned in the United States has skyrocketed in the last few years.

Bearing Handmaid’s use as a protest symbol for reproductive rights in mind, it’s easy to overlook the significance that Gilead’s prohibition of women to read plays in establishing and maintaining its totalitarian control.

As one of Gilead’s hardliners put it:

Our big mistake was teaching them to read. We won’t do that again. [3]

The Testaments, Atwood’s follow-up work to The Handmaid’s Tale, reveals how Gilead falls.  And once again, reading and access to information looms large. Atwood’s combined works gives us insight into the role that reading and access to information can play in holding the line against totalitarianism in the good ol’ U.S. of A.

Whoever controls the word maintains power

Within both novels, Atwood makes it abundantly clear that whoever controls the word maintains power. And what better way to symbolize this reality than to put the headquarters of Gilead’s enforcer unit, The Eyes, in what was once a library? This “former grand library”:

…now shelters no books but their own, the original contents having been either burned or, if valuable, added to the private collections of various sticky-fingered Commanders. [4]

The combined works serve as a reminder that learning to read has been carefully controlled throughout history. Who is allowed to. Who isn’t. And more insidiously, whose stories can and cannot be told. [5]

The narrator of The Handmaid’s Tale tells her story rather than writing it down because, as she notes, she has nothing to write with. And even if she did, writing is forbidden anyway. Gilead enforces its mandate against women reading and writing with a “three strikes” policy. On the third conviction they cut off your hand.

Though no one has suggested lopping off body parts as punishment for reading banned books in the U.S., teachers and librarians have been threatened with time behind bars for providing books like The Catcher in the Rye, The House on Mango Street, and Speak to students.[6]

Controlling whose stories can and cannot be told should sound especially familiar. Because these days, books that tell stories about people of color, those that revolve around LGBTQ+ individuals, or include characters from non-Christian backgrounds are being purged from classroom shelves and school libraries at an alarming rate.

And, when marginalized communities such as these are not represented in the books students read, it’s clear they’re intentionally being made invisible, stripped of their humanity, and therefore rendered powerless. Just like Atwood’s narrator, whose real name we don’t know because using it is forbidden.

We only know her as Offred, a name designed to eliminate her personhood, one composed of the possessive preposition “of” and the first name of the Commander she is currently assigned to. Offred tries to tell herself that this dehumanizing tactic doesn’t matter – like those who dismiss the omission of diverse communities in school curriculums as inconsequential… “but what I tell myself is wrong,” Offred reflects, “it does matter.” [7]

Just like it matters that particular communities within our country are being made invisible. That is also wrong.

Fascism erases history

One of the most effective ways of controlling the word and consolidating power is to erase history. And, as scholar of totalitarian systems Jason Stanley points out, that’s just what authoritarian regimes do. They find ways of erasing or concealing history, which allows them to misrepresent history as a single story.[8]

Consistent with this observation, Offred talks about book-burnings that took place across Gilead because:

the corrupt and blood-smeared fingerprints of the past must be wiped away to create a clean space for the morally pure generation that is surely about to arrive. [9]

Aunt Lydia is one of the women in charge of what Atwood describes as brainwashing new handmaids in a sort of Red Guard re-education facility known as the Red Center.[10] Lydia refers to the initial group of conscripted handmaids as a “transitional generation.”[11]

And, the reason they’re a transitional generation is that the “training process,” as it were, will be easier for the next cohort of handmaids. Because, as Aunt Lydia notes, they “will accept their duties with willing hearts.”[12] What Aunt Lydia doesn’t say, however, is that the next generation of handmaids will accept their duties willingly “because they will have no memories of any other way.”[13]

When authoritarian regimes set out to erase history, as Stanley further states, they do so through education, by purging certain narratives from school curriculums.[14] Gilead accomplished this by replacing girls’ academic curriculum with “domestic education,” which revolves around subjects like embroidery, elementary gardening, the making of paper flowers, skills deemed suitable hobbies for future Wives of Commanders.[15]

They were also taught “how to judge the quality of the food that was cooked for us and served at our table.”[16] What they weren’t taught, however, is how to read or write.

Reading and writing may not have been expunged from American schools, but as touched upon above, huge swaths of our history have been purged from the school curriculums in a number of states. Not to mention the recent dismantling of The Department of Education.

Educators at all levels are targeted, and any teaching that addresses racial hierarchy, patriarchy, or heteronormativity is being suppressed. Histories of political movements like Black Lives Matter are also being removed from social studies curriculums.

By eliminating the history of uprisings against the status quo, authoritarians give students the idea that the status quo has never been – and can never be – challenged.[17]

Lack of information is part of the nightmare

It goes without saying that not knowing what happened to her family at the hands of Gilead authorities during their attempted escape into Canada wears on Offred’s psyche. But, it’s significant that she also talks about a sense of deterioration, specifically the diminished skills that result from Gilead’s edict against women reading and writing.

Her Commander begins requesting that she visit him in his office alone. As it turns out, he’s not after kinky sex, but to watch her read books and magazines that he’s appropriated from pre-Gilead times… and to play Scrabble.

In describing these illicit meetings, Offred compares Gilead’s prohibition of reading to the deprivation of food:

On these occasions I read quickly, voraciously, almost skimming, trying to get as much into my head as possible before the next long starvation. If it were eating it would be the gluttony of the famished. [18]

But even worse, as she and the Commander play this quintessential game of words, she notes how her reading and writing skills have deteriorated:

My tongue felt thick with the effort of spelling. It was like using a language I’d once known but had nearly forgotten… It was like trying to walk without crutches, like those phony scenes in old TV movies. You can do it. I know you can. That was the way my mind lurched and stumbled, among the sharp r’s and t’s, sliding over the ovoid vowels as if on pebbles. [19] 

A comparable situation is taking place related to reading achievement in America. Reading scores on the most recent (2024) National Assessment of Education Progress (known as America’s report card) fell two points below 2022’s historic low. “We’re still recovering from the pandemic,” you may say. And, there is truth to that statement.

However, as Peggy Carr, commissioner of the National Center for Education Statistics, points out, this concern “cannot be blamed solely on the pandemic.”[20] The fact that math scores have not dropped among 8^th graders, and have actually improved among 4^th graders indicate something else is going on.

Recent studies have found that the surge in book banning has negatively affected reading skills. Yes, we’re still recovering from the pandemic. But educators now have fewer resources at their disposal to aid in this recovery. And the types of books hardest hit by these bans are the ones that have the greatest positive impact on reading achievement.

Results from The Early Childhood Longitudinal Study reveal that “social studies is the only subject with a clear, positive, and statistically significant effect on reading improvement.”[21] Social Studies is defined as:

the study of individuals, communities, systems, and their interactions across time and place that prepares students for local, national, and global civic life. [22]

And it’s precisely these types of books, those about diverse characters and life experiences, as well as books addressing difficult historical truths that are being banned from America’s classrooms and libraries – much to the detriment of students’ reading achievement.

Social and political dimensions of the ability to read

Atwood’s works also speak to the social, and political dimensions of the ability to read. She specifically focuses on oppression enforced by the institutional control of acquiring knowledge and information.

For example. Aunts are allowed to read and write, because they’re in charge of Handmaids’ assignments and maintaining bloodlines. And, Aunt Lydia employs this hierarchical distinction as a show of power, rubbing the handmaids’ proverbial noses in it, frequently making them watch and wait as she reads silently “flaunting her prerogative.” [23]

Commanders’ offices are lined with books. As suggested above, they like to accumulate books, gloat over the collections they’ve compiled, and boast about what they’ve pilfered. [24]

And, the Bible is kept under lock and key. This mandate is significant because Gilead is ostensibly founded on biblical concepts. Commanders can read from the Bible to their primarily female households, but the women are forbidden to read it for themselves. [25]

Needless to say, the Commanders cherry-pick passages and spin them in a way that supports Gilead’s totalitarian agenda. And, given that the source of these passages is denied them, women have no way of refuting these intentional misreadings.

The power of storytelling

The Handmaid’s Tale is undoubtedly about oppression and control. However, it’s also about the power of narrative. Atwood does indeed focus on oppression enforced by institutional control of knowledge and information. But, she also examines the self-liberating capacity of storytelling. [26]

The Aunts at the Red Center did their best to brainwash the woman who would come to narrate The Handmaid’s Tale. They set out to crush her identity and demolish her sense of individuality.  Yet, she manages to record her feelings, experiences, thoughts, and memories.

That’s because, as Jason Stanley observes:

authoritarians cannot erase people’s lived experiences, and their legacies written into the bones of generations. In this simple fact lies always the possibility of reclaiming lost perspectives. [27]

By telling her own story throughout the novel, Offred reclaims her sense of self and reconstructs the subjectivity they literally tried to beat out of her at The Red Center.  In short, she recovers the voice Gilead has denied her.

In doing so, she recreates erased histories and uncovers versions of events that Gilead had repressed. [28]

Most importantly, by sharing her tale she becomes a social agent – and, as a result of the power of narrative, aids in Gilead’s eventual downfall.

When only 11 people are responsible for 60% of book challenges in the U.S. (as has recently been the case), the vast majority of us are being denied a voice – in this case about which books our kids are allowed to read. [29] To say nothing of the voices within the marginalized communities whose stories are being banned, voices that allow us to understand and relate to those whose lives are different than our own.

Since only a handful of individuals are responsible for over half of the book challenges in this country, they’re the ones determining whose histories are being erased. And, without consulting the rest of us, they’re repressing information about landmark events like the Stonewall uprising, not to mention the institution of slavery and its role in our country.

Reclaim your voice. Make sure stories like these continue to be told. Narrative has the power to break down the “us vs them” environment  authoritarian regimes thrive on. [30]

A trio of narratives

Like The Handmaid’s Tale, Atwood’s follow up work is a meta-narrative about storytelling, one emphasizing the importance of testimony and witnessing. The Testaments is divided into a trio of interwoven narratives: One is Aunt Lydia’s, which is written illegally in blue ink and unironically hidden inside a copy of Cardinal Newman’s Apologia Pro Vita Sua: A Defense of One’s Own Life. 

The second is the recorded testimony of a young woman named Agnes, about growing up in The Republic of Gilead. And third, is the recorded testimony of Daisy, a teenage girl who grew up in Canada, and can’t help but feel that her parents are keeping something from her.

The motif of reading and writing is emphasized toward the end of Atwood’s novel as if to highlight its role in the fall of Gilead.

As noted above, Aunt Lydia is the keeper of Gilead’s bloodlines. She’s also the clandestine chronicler of its “secret histories.”[31] Aunt Lydia is not entirely what she seems. And, she’s well aware that knowledge is power. Especially the aspect Henry Ward Beecher pointed out, that knowledge is “powder also, liable to blow false institutions to atoms.” [32]

Agnes doesn’t learn to read until she commits to becoming an aunt.  And, she chose this path in order to save herself from being married to an old and powerful Commander with a track record of young wives who die from mysterious illnesses. But even then, she continues to accept what she’s been taught about Gilead and her subservient place in it.

The day finally comes, however, when Agnes is granted full access to the Bible.

And, after reading a story she’s been told over-and-over in school for herself, Agnes discovers that she and all the other girls have been lied to about what the passages say. She sees that the meanings of the stories have been twisted to keep women obedient, subservient, and willing to sacrifice themselves to the patriarchy.  Agnes tells us that:

Up until that time I had not seriously doubted the rightness and especially the truthfulness of Gilead’s theology. If I’d failed at perfection, I’d concluded that the fault was mine. But as I discovered what had been changed by Gilead, what had been added, and what had been omitted, I feared I might lose my faith. [33]

Agnes has come to realize “everyone at the top of Gilead has lied to us,” and that, as is typical of authoritarian regimes,:

Bearing false witness was not the exception, it was common. Beneath its outer show of virtue and purity, Gilead was rotting. [34]

Sometime later, Agnes comes face-to-face with another startling revelation. She discovers that her birth mother is a runaway handmaid suspected of working with the resistance in Canada. Consistent with Jordan Stanley’s observation about life experiences being etched in our bones, this information triggers the memory of when Agnes was torn from her mother’s arms as they were running through the forest in an attempt to escape Gilead.

The Gilead wife who raised Agnes transformed this harrowing experience into a nightly fairy tale about how they had been running through the forest after she rescued Agnes from a wicked witch. [35] Agnes puts two-and-two together, as the saying goes. She realizes that, like the Bible passages fed to her on a daily basis, her own story had been twisted for Gilead’s purposes.

The kicker is…   that the document Agnes is now able to read – one that only Aunt Lydia could have slipped onto her desk – reveals that her mother had a second child, one who had been smuggled into Canada as an infant. And, that child is Baby Nicole.

Baby Nicole has become a propaganda tool for the people of Gilead to rally around:

Baby Nicole, whom we prayed for on every solemn occasion at Ardua Hall [where Aunts are trained]. Baby Nicole, whose sunny cherubic face appeared on Gilead television so often as a symbol of the unfairness being shown to Gilead on the international stage. Baby Nicole, who was practically a saint and martyr, and was certainly an icon. [36] 

When Agnes discovers that Baby Nicole is her sister, the proverbial lightbulb flickers on, and she begins to comprehend “the deplorable degree of corruption” within the totalitarian regime that has taken over the United States of America. [37] Any blind obedience she may have felt to The Republic of Gilead is stripped away. She comes to understand that, if the country she loves is to be saved, action must be taken to bring Gilead in line with what it purports to stand for.

At this point, it should be apparent that the source of the third testimony, the Canadian teenager named Daisy, is none other than Baby Nicole. Significantly, Atwood chose the name Nicole because it means “Victory of the people.” [38] And she is, indeed, the lynchpin in events that lead to Gilead’s fall.

The Testaments is defined by action

While The Handmaid’s Tale is about Offred’s powerlessness and passivity, The Testaments revolves around action. As established above, this action is born of the ability to read and have access to information. And, it’s prompted by revealed deceptions and restored history.

It should come as no surprise that this regime-ending action revolves around Aunt Lydia, Agnes, and Daisy/Baby Nicole. Or that, as in many other works about the fall of totalitarian regimes, resistance organizations, undercover operatives, and the exposure of sensitive secrets are all involved.

Needless to say, Henry Ward Beecher was right, knowledge is explosive – when information about the multitude of crimes among Gilead’s top brass was released, this authoritarian regime begins to crumble. In true totalitarian fashion, what was left of Gilead still tried to control the word. They insisted that the repressed information Aunt Lydia had been compiling which was being released by Canadian media, was all “fake news.” [39]

Despite Aunt Lydia’s role in perpetuating Gilead’s abuse – or perhaps because of it – there’s a lesson we can learn from her. At the close of her hand-written manuscript, she addresses a future reader, acknowledging the possibilities for what will become of the pages she’s written.

The prospects are consistent with the way we currently treat works of literature. We’ll either view them as a treasure, “to be opened with utmost care.”  Or we’ll tear them apart, maybe burn them, as Lydia notes,  “that often happens to words.” [40]

This future reader may also read Aunt Lydia’s testimony, wondering how she could have “behaved so badly, so cruelly, so stupidly,” and she wouldn’t be astonished if that is the case. [41] What Aunt Lydia hopes, however, is that the future reader will be a student of history, and:

Make something useful of [Aunt Lydia]: a warts-and-all portrait, a definitive account of [her] life and times, suitably footnoted. [42]

Aunt Lydia’s lesson is that she advocates for a complete and accurate history to be told about Gilead, even though it comes at her expense. Regrettably, book banners in the U.S. restrict information about the hard truths in American history rather than make something useful of them.

We all have a choice to make when it comes to book banning and the creeping totalitarianism it indicates. It’s the same choice Offred faced as she contemplated the message carved in the closet by the handmaid assigned to this Commander before her:

I could just sit here, peacefully. I could withdraw. It’s possible to go so far in, so far down and back, they could never get you out.

Nolite te bastardes carborundorum. [Which means don’t let the bastards grind you down.] Fat lot of good it did her.

Why fight?” [43]

Offred’s answer after considering the possibility of not fighting…  “That will never do.” [44]

Row! Row for your life!

Margaret Atwood used the following quote from Ursula K Le Guin as an epigram for The Testaments. It picks up where Offred’s contemplation above leaves off:

Freedom is a heavy load, a great and strange burden for the spirit to undertake. It is not easy. It is not a gift given, but a choice made, and the choice may be a hard one. [45]

Le Guin’s quote is embodied in the last leg of the clandestine operation that ultimately brings Gilead down. Agnes and Nicole are in a rowboat, struggling to make it to the shore where resistance operators are expecting them. Given that the tide is against them, Agnes is understandably worried that they’re so far out they’ll be swept away.

Their situation functions as a metaphor for a nation being swept away by creeping totalitarianism. And, Nicole’s response to Agnes sums things up perfectly:

No we won’t. Not if you try. Now, go! And, go! That’s it! Go! Go! Go!…  Row! Row for your life! [46]

It goes without saying that the two make it to shore and are scooped up by the resistance agents waiting there. The cache of information they are carrying is successfully delivered. And the rest as they say is history, one that is complete, accurate, and available to learn from.

Atwood’s addition of “Historical Notes” is an optimistic indication that Gilead did indeed fall. But, it’s also a cautionary tale. Because Professor Pieixoto’s misogynistic remarks make it abundantly clear that the seeds of what spawned Gilead are still present, and that the fight to keep it at bay is ongoing and constant.

And, that doesn’t simply apply to women’s issues, or to the fictional Republic of Gilead. It applies to democracy generally. So, don’t let book banning keep you or your student from reading books that help us understand our history, the people in our community, or how our government is intended to work.

Make sure stories like these get told. Knowing our history and understanding those whose lives are different than our own has the power to break down the “us vs them” environment authoritarian regimes thrive on. [47]  And if we know how our government is intended to work, we can see when its institutions are being disregarded or dismantled for authoritarian purposes.

As Senator Cory Booker urges us:

Don’t let your inability to do everything undermine your determination to do something. Progress starts with a single step forward. [48]

So, fire up family reading nights and feature banned books. Visit the public library with your student and check out the books your district has removed from its curriculums or library shelves. Organize a banned book club for your teens.

Heed Nicole’s call to action, “Row. Row for your life!” Which in this case means, Read, Read, Read! As Henry Ward Beecher told us, and Margaret Atwood has shown us, knowledge is power…  to keep freedom alive and our democracy strong, or to blow false, authoritarian regimes to atoms — whichever one is called for.
.

That’s my take on The Handmaid’s Tale — What’s yours?
Check out this Discussion Guide to get you started.

And, here are a couple of resources for
learning about American history:

Teaching American History

Bill of Rights Institute

Endnotes:

[1] Taneja, Sehr. “These Were the Most Commonly Banned Books in America in 2021.” Katie Couric Media. August 12, 2022.
https://katiecouric.com/entertainment/book-guide/most-banned-books-america/

[2] Bickford, Donna M. Understanding Margaret Atwood. Columbia, South Carolina: University of South Carolina Press, 2023. Pg 24.

[3] Atwood, Margaret. The Handmaid’s Tale.  New York: Vintage Books, 1998. Pg 307.

[4] Atwood, Margaret. The Testaments.  New York: Vintage Books, 2019. Pg 64.

[5] Thomas, P. L. “Margaret Atwood’s The Testaments: Reading and Writing Beyond Gilead.” Radical Scholarship.com https://radicalscholarship.com/2019/10/07/margaret-atwoods-the-testaments-reading-and-writing-beyond-gilead/

[6] Missouri House Bill No. 2044. https://house.mo.gov/billtracking/bills201/hlrbillspdf/4634H.01I.pdf

[7] Atwood, Margaret. The Handmaid’s Tale.  New York: Vintage Books, 1998. Pg 84.

[8] Stanley, Jason. Erasing History: How Fascists Rewrite the Past to Control the Future. New York: One Signal Publishers, 2024. Pg xi-xii.

[9] Atwood, Margaret. The Testaments. New York: Vintage Books, 2019. Pg 14.

[10] Renfro, Kim. “Margaret Atwood has a small but violent cameo in ‘the Handmaid’s Tale’ premiere.” Business Insider.  April 27, 2017. https://www.businessinsider.com/handmaids-tale-margaret-atwood-cameo-pilot-2017-4?op=1

[11] Atwood, Margaret. The Handmaid’s Tale.  New York: Vintage Books, 1998. Pg 117.

[12] Atwood, Margaret. The Handmaid’s Tale.  New York: Vintage Books, 1998. Pg 117.

[13] Atwood, Margaret. The Handmaid’s Tale.  New York: Vintage Books, 1998. Pg 117.

[14] Stanley, Jason. Erasing History: How Fascists Rewrite the Past to Control the Future. New York: One Signal Publishers, 2024. Pg xii.

[15] Atwood, Margaret. The Testaments.  New York: Vintage Books, 2019. Pg 19, 154.

[16] Atwood, Margaret. The Testaments.  New York: Vintage Books, 2019. Pg 154.

[17] Stanley, Jason. Erasing History: How Fascists Rewrite the Past to Control the Future. New York: One Signal Publishers, 2024. Pg xx-xxi.

[18] Atwood, Margaret. The Handmaid’s Tale.  New York: Vintage Books, 1998. Pg 184

[19] Atwood, Margaret. The Handmaid’s Tale.  New York: Vintage Books, 1998. Pg 155-156.

[20] Schwartz, Sarah. Reading Scores Fall to New Low on NAEP, Fueled by Declines for Struggling Students. January 29, 2025. EducationWeek.
https://www.edweek.org/leadership/reading-scores-fall-to-new-low-on-naep-fueled-by-declines-for-struggling-students/2025/01

[21] Adam Tyner and Sarah Kabourek. Social Education 85 (1), pp 32-39.

[22] National Council for the Social Studies. https://www.socialstudies.org/about/definition-social-studies

[23] Atwood, Margaret. The Handmaid’s Tale.  New York: Vintage Books, 1998. Pg 275.

[24] Atwood, Margaret. The Testaments.  New York: Vintage Books, 2019. Pg 282.

[25] Atwood, Margaret. The Handmaid’s Tale.  New York: Vintage Books, 1998. Pg 89.

[26] Bickford, Donna M. Understanding Margaret Atwood. Columbia, South Carolina: University of South Carolina Press, 2023. Pg 24.

David S. Hogsette (1997) Margaret Atwood’s Rhetorical Epilogue in The Handmaid’s Tale: The Reader’s Role in Empowering Offred’s Speech Act, Critique: Studies in Contemporary Fiction, 38:4, 262-278. Pg 263.

[27] Stanley, Jason. Erasing History: How Fascists Rewrite the Past to Control the Future. New York: One Signal Publishers, 2024. Pg xii.

[28] Bickford, Donna M. Understanding Margaret Atwood.  Columbia, South Carolina:The University of South Carolina Press, 2023. Pg 25

David S. Hogsette (1997) Margaret Atwood’s Rhetorical Epilogue in The Handmaid’s Tale: The Reader’s Role in Empowering Offred’s Speech Act, Critique: Studies in Contemporary Fiction, 38:4, 262-278. Pg 264.

[29 ]Natanson, Hannah. “Objections to sexual, LGBT, content propels spike in book challenges.” The Washington Post. June 9, 2023. https://www.washingtonpost.com/education/2023/05/23/lgbtq-book-ban-challengers/

[30] Stanley, Jason. How Fascism Works: The Politics of Us and Them. New York: Random House, 2020.

[31] Atwood, Margaret. The Testaments. New York: Vintage Books, 2019. Pg 39.

[32] Beecher, Henry Ward. “Anti-Slavery Lectures,” The New York Times, January 17, 1855.
https://www.nytimes.com/1855/01/17/archives/antislavery-lectures.html

[33] Atwood, Margaret. The Testaments. New York: Vintage Books, 2019. Pg 272.

[34] Atwood, Margaret. The Testaments. New York: Vintage Books, 2019. Pg 276.

[35] Atwood, Margaret. The Testaments. New York: Vintage Books, 2019. Pg 19.

[36] Atwood, Margaret. The Testaments. New York: Vintage Books, 2019. Pg 295.

[37] Atwood, Margaret. The Testaments. New York: Vintage Books, 2019. Pg 301

[38] Gilbert, Sophie. “The Challenge of Margaret Atwood.” The Atlantic. September 5, 2019.

[39] Atwood, Margaret. The Testaments. New York: Vintage Books, 2019. Pg 349

[40] Atwood, Margaret. The Testaments. New York: Vintage Books, 2019. Pg 355

[41] Atwood, Margaret. The Testaments. New York: Vintage Books, 2019. Pg 355

[42] Atwood, Margaret. The Testaments. New York: Vintage Books, 2019. Pg 355

[43] Atwood, Margaret. The Handmaid’s Tale.  New York: Vintage Books, 1998. Pg 225

[44] Atwood, Margaret. The Handmaid’s Tale.  New York: Vintage Books, 1998. Pg 225

[45] Le Guin, Ursula. In Margaret Atwood’s The Testaments. New York: Vintage Books, 2019. Pg 11.

[46] Atwood, Margaret. The Testaments. New York: Vintage Books, 2019. Pg 340

[47] Stanley, Jason. How Fascism Works: The Politics of Us and Them. New York: Random House, 2020.

[48] Senator Cory Booker. Facebook. October 21, 2020.

Images:

Whoever controls the word maintains power: Photo by Biao Yu on Unsplash

Fascism erases history:  Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

Lack of information is part of the nightmare: Photo by Valentin Fernandez on Unsplash

Social and political dimensions of the ability to read:  Photo by Artem Balashevsky on Unsplash

The power of storytelling: Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

A trio of narratives:  Photo by Jametlene Reskp on Unsplash

The Testaments is defined by action: Original photo by unknown author. Reproduction from public documentation/memorial by Lear 21 at English Wikipedia. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported, 2.5 Generic, 2.0 Generic and 1.0 Generic license.

In conclusion:  Photo by The New York Public Library on Unsplash

Book bans are an effective weapon
to divide & conquer

Book bans are an effective weapon in the arsenal of those who would benefit from division. Because, as Salman Rushdie observes:

Great writing makes a great noise in the mind, the heart.[3]

Literature gives us insight into people whose lives are different from our own. Books help us understand one another.

In doing so, they have the ability to cultivate a community of common interest.  The result?  We become resistant to the divide and conquer strategy we see so much of these days.

A dearth of understanding, and lack of common community interest, makes it easier for the seeds of division to take root. That’s why books that focus on diversity and inclusion are being targeted. To say nothing of the countless diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) endeavors being purged these days.

When divisive rhetoric is used – like describing a particular group of people as “vermin,” characterizing them as illegitimate, or portraying them as enemies – it’s always important to ask yourself who’s going to benefit from your animosity toward the targeted group.

As Octavia Butler admonishes us in The Parable of the Sower:

Embrace diversity.

Unite —

Or be divided,

robbed,

ruled,

killed.

By those who see you as prey.

Embrace diversity

Or be destroyed.[4]

We aren’t born with prejudices. They’re made for us, manufactured by someone who stands to profit from the division.

In the example above, it was the wealthy plantation owners who prospered. So…  who’s benefitting from our division these days. Someone’s going to get something out of it, and it sure isn’t going to be any of us.

Restricting Information:
Companion of Divide & Conquer

Companion of the tried-and-true divide & conquer strategy is the restriction of  information. And again, we’ve seen this tactic before. As abolitionist Henry Ward Beecher observed, in the antebellum south:

Slaveholders realized that allowing non-slaveholders access to information would disrupt their own fortunes, and thus imposed a strict system of censorship throughout the region.[5]

Beecher put the situation (both then and now) in a nutshell. He pointed out that ignorance (that is, lacking particular knowledge) can become an institution, one that can be legislated. With this in mind, consider the fact that legislation exists censoring K-12 curriculum in Florida, Indiana, South Carolina, Connecticut, and Texas just to name a few.

Fifty educational gag orders have been introduced in 16 different states as of February, 2023. One topic these bills prohibit teachers from addressing is sexual orientation and/or gender. These laws also proscribe teaching about race, racism, and difficult aspects of American history like native American boarding schools.[6]

The impact of legislation like this is that students are ignorant of events that took place in our country. That makes it impossible to know when elected officials (or those campaigning for office) are making distorted claims and re-writing history, spinning it for their gain.

The result of this tactic? We’re rendered docile. Because we don’t have enough information to see through their baloney and challenge it.

Author Margaret Atwood alerts us to the dangers of this scenario:

I had thought America was against totalitarianisms. If so, surely it is important for young people to be able to recognize the signs of them. One of those signs is book-banning. Need I say more?[7]

No. She doesn’t need to say more.

A sign of encroaching Authoritarianism

Nobel Laureate Toni Morrison hit the proverbial nail on the head when she pointed out:

Authoritarian regimes, dictators, despots are often, but not always, fools. But none is foolish enough to give perceptive, dissident writers free range to publish their judgments or follow their creative instincts. [8]

Because doing so would allow authors’ works to nurture the common community interest that would keep such authoritarian regimes from gaining traction.

Morrison went on to say:

The historical suppression of writers is the earliest harbinger of the steady away of additional rights and liberties that will follow. [9]

Bearing the repeal of Row v Wade in mind, and the increase in restrictive voting laws, not to mention the elimination of the Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights, Morrison’s observation appears to be terrifyingly spot on.[10]

This machine kills fascists

As a reminder of the power that words and music have against political ills, Woody Guthrie (you know, the guy who wrote This Land is Your Land) affixed a message on his guitar during World War II that said, This machine kills fascists.

Guthrie’s guitar was a fascist busting machine because, as Woody points out:

The song I sing will kill some old ideas. [11]

Books are fascist busters too. In an essay addressing the political use of language, George Orwell himself stated:

Political language is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind. [12]

And, in response to the question of why he writes, Orwell answered:

I write it because there is some lie that I want to expose, some fact to which I want to draw attention, and my initial concern is to get a hearing. [13]

And, this is why books are fascist busters. Reading books with diverse characters lets us see through the lies designed to divide us. It enables us to recognize each other as people. It makes us aware that we have more in common than we are different. As a result, reading diverse books goes a long way towards cultivating common community interest.

And when that happens, we become resistant to the divide & conquer strategy typically employed by authoritarian types. But how do we resist when authoritarian tendencies have already gained traction in our society?

As Henry Ward Beecher significantly noted:

…knowledge is not only power… but powder also, liable to blow false institutions to atoms.[14]

And remember this sage advice from famed anthropologist Margaret Mead:

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.[15]

With that pearl of wisdom in mind, here are a few deep dives into books that address this very situation — works that nurture democracy, or show the impact reading and diverse literature can have in deflecting authoritarianism.

Be sure to check out our take on these fascist busting books. Read the works in their entirety. And arm yourself against the divide & conquer strategy so often used by authoritarian types.

The Declaration of Independence

The Handmaid’s Tale

Fahrenheit 451

Leaves of Grass

The Giver

Endnotes:

[1] O’ Tuama, Padraig. Public Lecture. John Danforth Center on Religion and Politics. March 3, 2025.

[2] Morgan, Edmund S. American Slavery, American Freedom: The Ordeal of Colonial Virginia. New York: W. W. Norton & Company Inc, 2005. Pg 327-328.

[3] Rushdie, Salman. “Notes on Writing and the Nation.” Burn This Book. New York: Harper, 2009. Pg 80.

[4] Butler, Octavia. The Parable of the Sower.  London: Headline Publishing Group, 2019.Pg 185.

[5] Beecher, Henry Ward. “Anti-Slavery Lectures,” The New York Times, January 17, 1855.

[6] Jonathan Friedman, Jeffrey Adam Sachs, Jeremy C. Young, Samantha LaFrance. “Educational Censorship Continues: The 2023 Legislative Sessions So Far.” Pen America. https://pen.org/educational-censorship-continues-in-2023/

[7] Taneja, Sehr. “These Were the Most Commonly Banned Books in America in 2021.” Katie Couric Media. August 12, 2022.
https://katiecouric.com/entertainment/book-guide/most-banned-books-america/

[8] Morrison, Toni. “Peril.” Burn This Book. New York: Harper, 2009. Pg 1.

[9] Morrison, Toni. “Peril.” Burn This Book. New York: Harper, 2009. Pg 1.

[10] Dobs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization (2022). National Constitution Center. https://constitutioncenter.org/the-constitution/supreme-court-case-library/dobbs-v-jackson-womens-health-organization

Christina A. Cassidy and Ayanna Alexander. “Supreme Court tossed out heart of Voting Rights Act a decade ago, prompting wave of new voting rules.” Washington News via Associated Press. https://apnews.com/article/voting-rights-act-supreme-court-black-voters-6f840911e360c44fd2e4947cc743baa2

Press Release. “U.S. Department of Education Ends Biden’s Book Ban Hoax.” U.S. Department of Education. January 24, 2025.

[11] Woody Guthrie Center.

[12] Orwell, George. Why I Write. New York: Penguin – Great Ideas, 2005. Cover.

[13] Orwell, George. “Why I Write.” Why I Write. New York: Penguin – Great Ideas, 2005. Pg 8.

[14] Beecher, Henry Ward. “Anti-Slavery Lectures,” The New York Times, January 17, 1855.

[15] National Museum of American History. Smithsonian. https://americanhistory.si.edu/collections/object/nmah_1285394

Images:

Fascist Busters:Photo by Priscilla Du Preeze on Unsplash.com

Book Bans are an Effective Weapon: compiled from images by annie-spratt on unsplash.com, and john salvino 0n unsplash.com

Restricting Information: Photo by 2y.kang on Unsplash

A Sign of Encroaching Authoritarianism: Mussolini and fasces symbol

This Machine Kills Fascists: Public Domain. This image is available from the United States Library of Congress‘s Prints and Photographs division under the digital ID cph.3c30859.

#Banned Books       #On Censorship      #Celebrations      #Right to Read Day

Endnotes:

[1] Eugenios, Jillian. “The next chapter in record U.S. book bans? ‘Soft censorship.’” NBC News. September 27, 2024. https://www.nbcnews.com/nbc-out/out-news/soft-book-bans-censorship-lgbtq-race-rcna172855

L
aurie Halse Anderson’s Speak has faced controversy for decades due to its portrayal of sexual assault. Some critics have mischaracterized its content as “soft pornography” or “political propaganda,” particularly in states like Missouri, Nebraska, and Florida. By 2021, accusations arose that Speak was anti-male and would encourage harmful behaviors, such as increasing abortion rates. Despite these challenges, Speak is ultimately about survivorship, giving voice to those silenced by trauma—particularly its protagonist, Melinda, who struggles to reclaim her identity after experiencing sexual assault. Far from being a political statement or anti-male, Anderson’s work is deeply personal, exploring the emotional aftermath of violence.

In 2019, Anderson took her fight against censorship to the next level by publishing Shout, a memoir that confronts issues of sexual assault, silencing, and the #MeToo movement head-on. While Shout takes place in a more contemporary social context, it shares many thematic similarities with Speak in its exploration of survivorship, trauma, and the power of breaking silence. Just like Speak, Shout has also faced challenges and bans, despite its relevance to ongoing cultural conversations about sexual violence and the imperative for survivors to speak up. Anderson’s choice to confront such difficult material in both novels reflects her dedication to challenging the culture of silence that so often surrounds sexual assault, especially in young adult literature. To this day, she is still fighting censorship, showing up at school boards, going on interviews such as NPR, and her own digital activism.

“Soft Pornography” Accusation

 The argument that Speak promotes “soft pornography” primarily stems from the depiction of Melinda’s sexual assault. Some critics, particularly in conservative regions like Missouri and Nebraska, misinterpret the scene as inappropriate sexual content. However, this view fails to recognize the scene’s purpose: Speak portrays the trauma of the assault through Melinda’s perspective, focusing on her emotional and psychological aftermath rather than any graphic details. Anderson’s careful treatment of the subject focuses on the consequences of the violence, not the violence itself.

Fundamentally, literature is a space for discussing difficult but necessary topics, especially for young readers who may be experiencing similar trauma. Removing such books due to discomfort over subject matter can rob adolescents of an opportunity to find validation in their own experiences. Rather than exploitative, Speak presents the sexual assault as an integral part of Melinda’s journey to reclaim her voice and identity, making it more about recovery than shock value. Dismissing it as “pornography” silences important conversations about consent, trauma, and healing.

“Political Propaganda” Accusation

After 2021, as debates around Speak continued, another criticism surfaced—Speak was labeled “political propaganda,” with some accusing it of promoting anti-male sentiments. Critics claimed that the novel could lead to an increase in abortion rates or misrepresent men, framing them all as potential aggressors. This type of accusation stems from the novel’s critique of rape culture, which examines how societal norms perpetuate the silence around sexual violence. Rather than targeting men specifically, Speak focuses on the systems that allow violence to persist by silencing survivors, reinforcing that both men and women can play roles in supporting or dismantling these systems.

Far from being anti-male, Speak critiques systems of power that allow violence to flourish, and this critique is essential for all genders. Rape culture is a societal issue, not a gendered one. Both men and women can be affected by these harmful systems, and literature like Speak creates space for deeper conversations about how these structures work. Moreover, sexual assault affects all genders. For instance, studies show that 1 in 6 men have experienced sexual abuse or sexual assault. This statistic underscores that sexual violence is not solely a women’s issue. This makes Speak even more relevant for young readers who need to understand that survivorship is not limited to one gender.

Importance of Breaking the Silence

At its core, Anderson’s work, including her memoir Shout, is about breaking the silence surrounding sexual violence. Her anger over the continued silencing of survivors drove her to write Shout, published 20 years after Speak. Shout came out amid the rise of the #MeToo movement, founded by Tarana Burke in 2006 and gaining global attention in 2017, further highlighting the urgency of addressing sexual violence in society. Another study shows forty percent of rapes and sexual assaults were reported to police in 2017, but only about 25% were reported to police in 2018.” The book is a raw reflection of Anderson’s own experiences and frustrations with the lack of progress, adding a deeply personal dimension to the broader social critique.

While Speak fictionalizes Melinda’s experience, Shout serves as Anderson’s direct contribution to the #MeToo movement, amplifying survivors’ voices and advocating for accountability. The banning of these books—whether due to accusations of “political agendas” or “inappropriate content”—only reinforces the culture of silence that Anderson and #MeToo aim to dismantle.

Conclusion

Laurie Halse Anderson’s Speak and Shout remain essential works for addressing sexual violence, despite accusations of being “soft pornography” or “political propaganda.” These claims distract from the novels’ fundamental purpose: to foster dialogue about survivorship, healing, and dismantling rape culture. Whether exploring Melinda’s fictionalized experience in Speak or Anderson’s own story in Shout, these books encourage readers to confront uncomfortable truths and break the silence that enables sexual violence to persist. Rather than banning these works, educators and readers alike should recognize their importance in creating empathy, awareness, and social change.

This is the fundamental reason I have written this essay. As a young male sexual assault survivor, when I encountered this book, I was able to learn that I wasn’t alone. As I read this book in middle school, I learned the vocabulary of what had happened to me. I had gotten sexually abused and assaulted, and it began a hard and arduous process of reconciling what had happened to me. I have to thank Melinda and Laurie Halse Anderson for this. I may have never been able to reclaim my voice, and start speaking if not for this book.

As book bans have drastically risen, Speak and Shout, are almost always on the list. Book banning, especially in the context of young adult literature, can have far-reaching consequences. By removing these books from schools and libraries, those most in need of support are denied access to stories that could help them process their own experiences. The very act of banning Speak reinforces the culture of silence that Anderson’s work seeks to dismantle.

This personal connection is why book bans are so damaging. For every survivor like me who found solace in Speak, there are countless others who might never have the chance if these books continue to be censored. The rise in book bans not only targets works about sexual assault but also restricts access to critical stories about race, gender, and identity. This wave of censorship disproportionately affects marginalized communities, whose stories are often deemed too controversial or political for public consumption. These works are vital not only for their literary merit but also for the crucial role they play in fostering empathy, understanding, and social change. As book bans continue to rise, it is more important than ever to defend the right to access literature that challenges the status quo and empowers survivors. Anderson’s work offers a powerful reminder that silence is not the solution—and that speaking out is an act of resistance and healing.

By banning these books, we are not protecting young readers; we are denying them the chance to learn, grow, and find the strength to reclaim their own voices.

Essayist bio:

David Win is an undergraduate student at Washington University in St. Louis, predominantly working in the non-profit and advocacy space. He states, “in this space I come as a survivor and book lover.”

#Banned Books    #On Censorship   #Benefits of Humanities

Images:

“Soft Pornography” Accusation: Photo by Adi Goldstein on Unsplash

“Political Propaganda” Accusation:  Photo by Andrea De Santis on Unsplash

Importance of Breaking the Silence:  Photo by Johannes Krupinski on Unsplash

Conclusion:  Photo by Egor Myznik on Unsplash

A
nd so it begins…  as of January 24, 2025, the U.S. Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights (OCR) has rescinded all guidance indicating that school districts’ implementation of book bans could violate civil rights laws.

The agency has also eliminated President Biden’s recently-created position of book ban coordinator.[1] Responsibilities of this now-abolished post entailed the development of training for schools regarding how book bans that target specific communities conceivably run counter to federal civil rights laws – specifically Title VI and Title IX of the landmark Civil Rights Act of 1964.[2]

Title VI and Title IX are foundational civil rights laws. And, they were enacted to ensure that students are free from discrimination in educational settings.

Title VI:

It prohibits discrimination on the basis of race, color, and national origin in programs and activities receiving federal financial assistance.[3] Note that, unlike Title IX, Title VI’s protections are not limited to “education” programs and activities.[4]

Title IX:

No person in the United States shall, on the basis of sex, be excluded from participation in, be denied the benefits of, or be subjected to discrimination under any education program or activity receiving Federal financial assistance…  Title IX’s prohibition on discrimination “on the basis of sex” includes discrimination on the basis of gender identity and sexual orientation.[5]

Congress consciously modeled Title IX on Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964.[6] And, together these laws are consequential tools aimed at ensuring that schools remain places where every student can learn and thrive without fear of harassment or exclusion.

A Case Study in
How the System Used to Work

An investigation by the OCR into the removal of books featuring LGBTQ+ and racial minority characters at Forsyth County Schools in Georgia serves as a case study for how the now-dismantled system worked.

First, it’s important to note that a significant number of the books recently removed from school and library shelves were challenged on the basis of containing LGBTQ+ themes or because they address race and racism.

More than half of attempted book bans over the past several years were works containing LGBTQ+ themes and content. Forty percent were books that revolve around protagonists or secondary characters of color. And 21% of those challenged address issues of race or racism. [7]

The OCR found that removing books featuring LGBTQ+ and racial minority characters created a hostile environment for students. During this probe, LGBTQ+ students and their families reported fear over losing a sense of safety because their school environment became “more harsh,” that is to say abusive, “in the aftermath of the book removals.”[8]

In the same report, students of color indicated that eliminating books with diverse characters made it difficult to see themselves represented in their school libraries. Lack of representation isn’t simply a matter of not getting enough attention. Rendering a population invisible within society effectively silences minority voices.[9]

The OCR ultimately concluded that the book bans, combined with lack of communication throughout the challenge process, as well as ongoing discourse from district leadership about LGBTQ and racial issues, constituted a violation of the students’ civil rights.[10]

The complaint was ultimately settled with a resolution agreement between the Forsyth County School District and the OCR. Among other things, the resolution lays the foundation for improved communication between all parties involved.

But more importantly, it establishes a process for improving school climate and addressing “harassment based on sex, race, color or national origin.”[11]  And ultimately, this resolution agreement deters the violation of students’ civil rights.

Such investigations
will no longer be happening.

 Rather than addressing such documented harms, the Department of Education under the Trump Administration has rescinded all department guidance pertaining to book bans and how removing books from school libraries could violate students’ civil rights.

And they didn’t waste any time doing it – the process was set in motion on Inauguration Day. Not only that… as we speak, the Trump administration is drafting an executive order to dismantle the Department of Education entirely.[12]

Trump’s OCR has dismissed the 17 cases heretofore under investigation, stating it was ending “Biden’s book ban hoax.”[13]

But, book bans in United States’ public school classrooms and libraries are anything but a hoax. The free expression advocacy group Pen America has tracked nearly 16,000 book ban attempts in public schools across the nation since 2021.[14]

Why is the Department of Education
no longer taking on book bans?

Why has the Office for Civil Rights been stripped of its ability to hold districts accountable for these actions? Why isn’t it addressing censorship – which silences students and impedes their access to education – a priority for this administration?

Why is the Trump administration preparing to dismantle the Department of Education – whose mission is to “promote student achievement and preparation for global competitiveness by fostering educational excellence and ensuring equal access” – altogether?[15]

Suppressing access to information is a tactic that’s been used before in this country. As pointed out by Henry Ward Beecher, the slave-holding class in the antebellum south “realized that allowing non-slaveholders access to information would disrupt their own fortunes, and thus imposed a strict system of censorship throughout the region.”[16]

Beecher also noted that schoolbooks containing accurate material about the evils of slavery “were expunged” because it’s understood that “youthful impressions [are] the most lasting.”[17]

We see this tactic being employed again today. Confirmed by the fact that 16% of books banned in recent years are history books or biographies.[18]

Beecher put the situation, both then and now, in a nutshell with his statement that ignorance (that is… lacking information or particular knowledge) can become an institution, one that can be legislated. Sound familiar?

As he also pointed out:

Knowledge is not only power… but powder also, liable to blow false institutions to atoms.[19]

It seems we have our answer as to why the current Office of Civil Rights is no longer taking on book bans and censorship. Especially when considered in light of the fact that 10% of books recently banned in American school districts contained themes of rights and activism. It’s because, as Beecher noted and we learned from Schoolhouse Rock, knowledge is power.[20]

What’s the purported motive
for these recent actions?  

The OCR’s press release cites “fundamental rights of parents to direct their children’s education” as the motive behind these recent actions.[21]

There’s no question that parents deserve a say in shaping their children’s education, especially when it comes to matters revolving around their moral and religious beliefs. But, parents already have that right.

Parents’ legal right “to control the education of their own” pupils was established by the Supreme Court in 1923 with the case Meyer v Nebraska.[22]

Ironically, Meyer v Nebraska revolves around the state of Nebraska’s ban (and yes, that is the word used in the judicial opinion) on forms of education pertaining to marginalized groups.  In this case, the immigrant population generally was targeted, and those of German heritage in particular – in an effort to “foster a homogeneous people.”[23]

The irony lies in the fact that the ruling which establishes the right Trump’s Department of Education purports to be upholding when books with LGBTQ+ themes or discussions of racism are banned, actually finds that restricting education for and about such minority populations is unconstitutional.

Be that as it may…   the right “to control the education of their own” students has long been exercised by parents who have objected to some of the material their children read or view. [24] And, there are ways to do it without trampling on the rights of others. But the day when that conversation was relevant has unfortunately passed.

The fact of the matter is, in its current configuration the Department of Education is no longer in the business of ensuring students’ access to information which, needless to say, is the foundation of a well-rounded education.

What can we do about it?

 What can we do about it? As children’s writer James Howe points out:

Banning books is just another form of bullying. It’s all about fear and an assumption of power. The key is to address the fear and deny the power.[25]

Needless to say, we should make our voices heard at PTA and school board meetings, especially those of our students – whose right to education and information is being infringed upon. Vote in local elections. Run for your local school board.

These actions are important undertakings to be sure. But not everyone has the resources to run for a seat on their school board. That’s what book banners are counting on, as evinced by the recent influx of political money into those elections.

But there’s a “work-around” as it were to ensure your child’s access to information and the well-rounded education they have a right to. And that is to turn the parental rights book banners invoke on its head. Ex-school teacher Stephen King nails it as the expression goes with his advice to:

…run, don’t walk, to the nearest non-school library or to the local bookstore and get whatever it was that they banned. Read whatever they’re trying to keep out of your [student’s] eyes and your [student’s] brain, because that’s exactly what [they] need to know…   controversy and surprise – sometimes even shock – are often the whetstone on which young minds are sharpened.[26]

Deny book banners the power to control and impoverish your student’s education. Take the bull by the proverbial horns. Fire up family reading nights and feature banned books. Visit the public library with your student and check out the books your district has removed from its classrooms or library shelves. Organize a banned book club for your teens.

Any book worth banning
is a book worth reading.

As science fiction legend Isaac Asimov so astutely put it, “any book worth banning is a book worth reading.”[27] Studies show that when allowed to read books with difficult or “disturbing” subject matter, students who previously read little or nothing “started reading like crazy,” both in and out of school.[28]

Not surprisingly these students’ reading achievement improved. That’s no small consideration, given that the most recent reading scores on “the nation’s report card” (for 2024) have plummeted to a historic low.[29]

We’re undoubtedly still playing catch-up from the Covid pandemic. Both math and reading scores are still below pre-pandemic levels. But it’s significant to note that only the reading scores have dropped since the previous assessment period.

Why the disparity?  Well…  when we ban books, we tie one arm behind educators’ backs, because they have fewer resources at their disposal to help teach our kids to read at a proficient level. Moreover, a diverse library is one of the best – if not the best – tool in a teacher’s arsenal.

A recent survey of educators from all 50 states found that when diverse books are added to classroom libraries, student reading time increased by 4 hours per week on average. As a result, students’ reading scores increased to three points higher (+9) than the national expected average yearly gains. The lowest scoring students made the greatest gains (+11).

Teachers in this survey indicate that for every additional bilingual book added to their classroom library, their students’ reading assessment scores increased by seven points on average.

They further stated that for every additional LGBTQ+ book added to their classroom library, their students’ reading assessment scores increased by 4.5 points on average. [30]

In addition to improved assessment scores, students in a study of middle-schoolers also report improved self-control, as well as  developing more, and stronger, friendships and family relationships. And, students report being “happier. Yes, happier.” [31] This, of course, is the polar opposite of the baloney banners spout to frighten parents into falling in line.

The bottom line…

Rather than succumbing to a policy of restricted information and diminished education, “control the education of your own” by making sure your students have access to books that are being removed from classroom and school library shelves. Reading the types of books targeted by these bans fosters critical thinking, trains perspective-taking, and engenders empathy.[32]

Not only are these skills that students are going to need in order to be whole, successful adults, they’re essential social skills for an informed citizenry in a democratic society. Let’s make sure the next generation of American citizens is equipped with them.

Be sure to take a look at our
“Fight Book Bans” segment.

Don’t miss our Case Study on
how to push back against book bans.

#Department of Education  #book bans
#state-sponsored censorship  #banned books

Endnotes:

[1] Press Release. “U.S. Department of Education Ends Bien’s Book Ban Hoax.” U.S. Department of Education. January 24, 2025.

Arundel, Kara. “Education Department rescinds Biden-era Book ban guidance.” Jan 24, 2025. K-12 Dive.com
https://www.k12dive.com/news/school-book-bans-Education-Department-civil-rights/738310/

[2] Merod, Anna. “Ed Dept to appoint coordinator to take on book bans nationwide.” June 8, 2023. K-12Dive.com
https://www.k12dive.com/news/education-department-coordinator-addressing-book-ban/652458/

[3] U.S. Department of Justice/ Civil Rights Division. Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964.  Overview of Title VI:  https://www.justice.gov/crt/fcs/TitleVI

EveryLibrary Objects to Trump Administration Calling Book Bans a Hoax. January 24, 2025.
https://www.everylibrary.org/trump_administration_ends_school_book_ban_consent_decree

[4] U.S. Department of Justice/ Civil Rights Division. Title IX. Title IX Legal Manual
 https://www.justice.gov/crt/title-ix

[5] U.S. Department of Justice/ Civil Rights Division. Title IX. Title IX Legal Manual.
https://www.justice.gov/crt/title-ix

[6] U.S. Department of Justice/ Civil Rights Division. Title IX. Title IX Legal Manual
https://www.justice.gov/crt/title-ix

EveryLibrary Objects to Trump Administration Calling Book Bans a Hoax. January 24, 2025. EveryLibrary.com
https://www.everylibrary.org/trump_administration_ends_school_book_ban_consent_decree

[7] Arkin, Daniel. “More than half of 2023’s most challenged books have LGBTQ themes.” April 11, 2024. NBCnews.com
https://www.nbcnews.com/nbc-out/out-news/banned-books-lgbtq-library-association-rcna146236

Heeter, Jonathan. “Three Facts and a Fiction: Challenging Books,” March 15, 2023. American University, Washington DC.
https://www.american.edu/news/au-three-facts-fiction-banned-books.cfm

[8] Landmark Civil Rights Agreement Over Book Bans in Forsyth County (GA) Schools. May 21, 2023. EveryLibrary.com https://www.everylibrary.org/landmark_school_book_ban_civil_rights

[9] EveryLibrary Objects to Trump Administration Calling Book Bans a Hoax. January 24, 2025.
https://www.everylibrary.org/trump_administration_ends_school_book_ban_consent_decree

Letter of Advisement to Forsyth County Schools Superintendent. United States Department of Education Office for Civil Rights, Region IV.

[10] Landmark Civil Rights Agreement Over Book Bans in Forsyth County (GA) Schools. May 21, 2023. EveryLibrary.com https://www.everylibrary.org/landmark_school_book_ban_civil_rights

[11]  Resolution Agreement. Forsyth County Schools. Complaint No. 04-22-1281. United States Department of Education Office for Civil Rights

Letter of Advisement to Forsyth County Schools Superintendent. United States Department of Education Office for Civil Rights, Region IV.

[12] U.S. Department of Education. Press Release: U.S. Department of Education Ends Biden’s Book Ban Hoax. January 24, 2025.

Mason, Jeff. “Trump seeks executive order, cooperation with Congress to shut Education Department.” Reuters.com February 4, 2025.

[13] U.S. Department of Education. Press Release: U.S. Department of Education Ends Biden’s Book Ban Hoax. January 24, 2025.

[14] Alfonseca, Kiara. “Department of Education dismisses book ban complaints, ends guidance.” ABCNews 
https://abcnews.go.com/US/department-education-dismisses-book-ban-investigations-ends-guidance/story?id=118098825

[15] U.S. Department of Education. “Mission of the U.S. Department of Education.”
https://www.ed.gov/about/ed-overview/mission-of-the-us-department-of-education

[16]Beecher, Henry Ward. “Anti-Slavery Lectures,” The New York Times, January 17, 1855.
https://www.nytimes.com/1855/01/17/archives/antislavery-lectures.html

[17] Beecher, Henry Ward. “Anti-Slavery Lectures.” The New York Times. January 19, 1854.
https://www.nytimes.com/1854/01/19/archives/newyork-city-antislavery-lectures.html

[18] Book Banning, Curriculum Restrictions, and the Politicization of U.S. Schools Report. September 19, 2022.

[19]Beecher, Henry Ward. “Anti-Slavery Lectures,” The New York Times, January 17, 1855.
https://www.nytimes.com/1855/01/17/archives/antislavery-lectures.html

[20] O’Kane, Caitlin. “Over 1,600 books were banned in U.S. school districts in one year – and the number is increasing.” September 20, 2022. CBSnews.
https://www.cbsnews.com/news/banned-books-list-increased-schools-ban-critical-race-theory-sexuality-pen-america-report/

[21] U.S. Department of Education. Press Release: U.S. Department of Education Ends Biden’s Book Ban Hoax. January 24, 2025.

[22] “Meyer v. Nebraska, 262 U.S. 390 (1923).” Justia U.S. Supreme Court.
https://supreme.justia.com/cases/federal/us/262/390/

[23] “Meyer v. Nebraska, 262 U.S. 390 (1923).” Justia U.S. Supreme Court.
https://supreme.justia.com/cases/federal/us/262/390/

[24] “Meyer v. Nebraska, 262 U.S. 390 (1923).” Justia U.S. Supreme Court.
https://supreme.justia.com/cases/federal/us/262/390/

[25] “Read Harder Challenge 2025.” Book Riot.
https://bookriot.com/support-banned-books-week-quotes-censorship/

[26] Stephen King Quotable Quote. Goodreads.

King, Stephen. “The Book-Banners: Adventure in Censorship is Stranger Than Fiction.”
https://stephenking.com/works/essay/book-banners-adventure-in-censorship-is-stranger-than-fiction.html

[27] Williamson, Rebecca. Let Freedom Read – Banned Books Week 2023. September 22, 2023. San Diego State University. https://library.sdsu.edu/features/banned-books

[28] Gay Ivey and Peter Johnston. “What Happens When Young People Actually read ‘Disturbing’ Books.” Teachers College Press blog. October 31, 2023.

[29] Schwartz, Sarah.“Reading Scores Fall to New Low on NAEP, Fueled by Declines for Struggling Students.” EducationWeek, January 29, 2025.  https://www.edweek.org/leadership/reading-scores-fall-to-new-low-on-naep-fueled-by-declines-for-struggling-students/2025/01

[230] The Impact of a Diverse Classroom Library. First Book Research & Insights. 2023.

[31] Gay Ivey and Peter Johnston. “What Happens When Young People Actually read ‘Disturbing’ Books.” Teachers College Press blog. October 31, 2023.

[32] The Ljubljana Reading Manifesto: Why higher-level reading is important. October 20, 2023. International Federation of Library Associations and Institutions.
https://www.ifla.org/news/ljubljana-manifesto-on-higher-level-reading-launched-at-frankfurter-buchmesse/

Images:

And so it begins…: Photo by Julia Joppien on Unsplash

A Case Study in how the system used to work:  Photo by Scott Graham on Unsplash

Such investigations will no longer be happening: Photo by Michael Dziedzic on Unsplash

Why is the Office for Civil Rights under the Trump administration no longer addressing book bans:  Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

What’s the purported motive for these recent actions:  Photo by Ioann-Mark Kuznietsov on Unsplash

What Can We Do About it: Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash

Any Book Worth Banning: Photo by Johnny McClung on Unsplash

The Bottom Line: Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

L
ike many mothers, my mom drilled the importance of being nice into my young psyche.  She used expressions like the direct and simple “be nice” to impart this lesson. As well as Thumper the rabbit’s ever-popular pearl of wisdom “if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.”  Not to mention Jimmy Durante’s “be nice to people on the way up, because you meet them on the way down.”[1]

And, then there’s the adage “it’s nice to be important, but more important to be nice.” These days, this aphorism is more relevant than ever.

We’ve heard it attributed to the likes of actor Tony Curtis, philanthropist John Templeton, and champion tennis player Roger Federer among others.[2]

Pretty good advice, really. But interestingly (although not surprisingly if you’ve been following Aphorisms Unplugged), there was a time when being nice was something to be avoided. And, referring to someone as nice would be rude and insulting.

Not because being polite, kind and respectful was a bad idea, but because nice meant something completely different.

During the 14^th century, when the word nice was first used in English, it meant to be “silly, or foolish.” Which makes sense, since the term made its way to English by way of early French from the Latin nescius, meaning ignorant.

By the 16^th century, nice became associated with a sense of being finicky, or very particular. Around that time it was also used to describe someone with an extravagant, flashy, ostentatious dress code.

It wasn’t until the 19^th century that the word nice came to mean polite, kind, respectful – and respectable – as we understand it today.[3]

That’s quite the etymological journey. I’d wager Mom didn’t know about all the twists and turns the word had taken when she encouraged me to be nice. But regardless of how long it took for the term to mean polite, kind, and respectful, being nice to one another is something we should all strive to do.

Endnotes:

[1] “Nice quotes.” Brainy Quote.  https://www.brainyquote.com/topics/nice-quotes

[2] “It’s Nice to Be Important, but More Important To be Nice.” Quote Investigator. April 12, 2017. https://quoteinvestigator.com/2017/04/12/nice/

[3] “Nice.” Merriam-Webster.com Dictionary, Merriam-Webster, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/nice.

“Nice.” Oxford English Dictionary. https://www.oed.com/dictionary/nice_adj?hide-all-quotations=true

Image:

Photo by ashok acharya on Unsplash

As we frequently point out here at This Book is Banned, a major benefit of reading books about people with experiences other than our own is that doing so fosters empathy, and broadens our understanding of the world we live in.

If we aren’t reading books about diverse characters, it can be easy to lose sight of the fact that not everyone experiences the world the same way we do. That a lot of people encounter circumstances we don’t even realize exist.

Unfortunately, a good number of books being restricted from school curriculums and pulled from classroom shelves are being banned precisely because they reflect those diverse experiences.

The following piece by guest essayist Maggie Speck-Kern speaks to differences in what is typically referred to as “the American experience.” Specifically, the American experience as embodied in the childhood reflections of  Zitkála-Šá (pronounced Zit-KAH-la-shah) and Laura Ingalls Wilder during America’s pioneer era.

M
any attempts have been made to define the “American experience,” including extensive journalistic projects from The New York Times and documentaries by the Public Broadcasting Service’s American Experience television show. For instance, in 2014, Todd Heisler and Damien Cave from The New York Times asked people the question, “What does it mean to be American?” Responses varied from, “respecting your neighbors […] in your own neighborhood” to “be[ing] intimate change.”[1] Furthermore, each documentary produced by PBS’s American Experience show “brings to life the incredible characters and epic stories that have shaped America’s past and present” with episodes ranging from “Andrew Carnegie: The Richest Man in the World” to “The Blinding of Isaac Woodard.” [2] However, each of these attempts further proves that there is not one singular type of “American experience” but many – albeit with common themes. In fact, “American” experiences can not only vary drastically between different eras of American history, but they can also vary drastically within the same era based on one’s ethnic identity and cultural practices.

Two examples of the varied “American experiences” that can be perceived within the same era are the lives of Laura Ingalls Wilder and Zitkála-Ša. Their lives are parallel in many ways, but their cultures could not be farther from each other. Wilder was born in 1867 in Wisconsin to a white family of European heritage while Zitkála-Ša was born on the Yankton Reservation in Dakota Territory (what would become South Dakota) in 1877 to a Sioux mother and a white father. Throughout most of their lives, both women lived throughout the Midwest and their timelines even overlapped in Dakota Territory for several years with them living less than 150 miles from each other. Additionally, both women followed similar professional careers as teachers before eventually becoming published authors. Despite their shared time period, geographic locations, and careers, their ostensible understanding of what it meant to be American was drastically different and based, almost exclusively, on ethnic experiences. Regardless, both women demonstrate truly “American” experiences, which can be seen in their life paths, housing, and understandings of the “other.”

In order to understand their similarities in the “American experience,” one must first recognize the distinct pioneer culture and Native American identity that highlight the cultural differences of Wilder and Zitkála-Ša respectively. These similarities are vividly described in their publications of their early childhood experiences. Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote Little House on the Prairie, the second book in the Little House series, and Zitkála-Ša wrote the short stories within the “Impressions of an Indian Childhood” collection later published in her book American Indian Stories. To give more context to their stories, one must look at their lives a bit closer.

Laura Ingalls Wilder was born in 1867 near Pepin, Wisconsin to Caroline Quiner and Charles Ingalls.[3] In 1869, Charles, affectionately known as “Pa” in the book series, moved the family to settle in Montgomery County, Kansas on property belonging to the Osage Diminished Reserve in the hopes of being able to purchase the land inexpensively after the Native Americans were removed.[4] Wilder’s novel, Little House on the Prairie, fictionalizes the time her family spent in Kansas and their interactions with the Native Americans. After just over a year on the prairie, the Ingalls family left their cabin and began a journey of over a decade settling and relocating throughout the Midwest from Pepin, Wisconsin to Walnut Grove, Minnesota to Burr Oak, Iowa before finally homesteading near De Smet in Dakota Territory.[5] While in De Smet, Wilder obtained her teaching certificate and spent time as a teacher to earn extra income for her family.[6] During her time in De Smet, she also met Almonzo Wilder, with whom she would eventually marry in 1885 and have a daughter, Rose.[7] After starting a life together, the Wilders moved to Spring Valley, Minnesota; Westville, Florida; and back to De Smet, South Dakota before purchasing land in Mansfield, Missouri which would become Rocky Ridge farm.[8] In the early 1910s, Wilder began publishing newspaper columns and magazine articles in local outlets. Later, in 1930, she began working on her autobiographical pieces with Rose which would eventually become the books of the Little House series.[9]

Importantly, Wilder’s early life experiences and the legacy of her books illustrate the archetype of the American experience in the late 1800s, specifically of American pioneers. The Ingalls family’s venture into Kansas on Osage land and the retelling of the story in the Little House on the Prairie perfectly represent the ideals of “manifest destiny,” or the “expansionist drive” that encouraged white pioneers to settle western lands for the sake of “progress and democracy.”[10] They pursued their idea of the “American dream” by settling in lands that belonged to Native Americans with the assumption that it would bring them great success and bounty. They were self-sufficient and lived off the land with the “fair exchange of labor with other settlers, and the mutual, voluntary helpfulness of good (if distant) neighbors.”[11]

Nine years after Wilder, Zitkála-Ša, or “Red Bird” (also known by her Anglo name of Gertrude Simmons Bonnin), was born in 1876 on the Yankton Sioux Reservation in Dakota Territory, the daughter of Tate Iyohi Win, or “Reaches the Wind Woman” (also known by her Anglo name of Ellen Simmons), and a white man who left before Zitkála-Ša was born.[12] Her collection of short stories Impressions of an Indian Childhood describes her time living on the reservation until she was eight years old when she left to attend White’s Manual Institute, a boarding school run by Quakers in Indiana.[13] There, her Indian culture was stripped from her and replaced with that of white America.[14] After living with her family once more on the reservation, she eventually returned to Indiana to attend Earlham College where she achieved great success as an orator.[15] In 1897, she began writing for the Indian Helper, a publication sponsored by the Carlisle Institute, a prominent Indian boarding school.[16] From this point onward, she began writing autobiographical stories, poetry, and fiction which were published in notable magazines such as The Atlantic Monthly and Harper’s.[17] In 1902, Zitkála-Ša married Raymond Bonnin, a fellow Yankton Sioux, and they had a son, Alfred Ohiya Bonnin, the following year.[18] After their short stint working for the Standing Rock Reservation, the Bonnins were reassigned to work on the Uintah-Ouray Reservation in Utah for the Bureau of Indian Affairs and lived there for fourteen years.[19] For the remainder of her life, Zitkála-Ša spent her time advocating for Native American rights, especially since they did not have citizenship until the Indian Citizenship Act in 1924, and “promoting the preservation of Native American cultural and tribal identities.”[20] In 1921, she published American Indian Stories where she “introduced a wide readership to the difficulty that American Indians faced in negotiating the pressures of religious conversion and cultural assimilation.”[21] Though she continued to write poetry and other stories, including an opera entitled Sun Dance, she largely spent her time involved with and writing about Indian affairs and served in many capacities with Native American organizations such as the Society of the American Indian, the Indian Welfare Committee, and the National Council of the American Indians.[22]

Yet, Zitkála-Ša’s life story does not simply represent Native American culture in the late 1800s, but also an “American experience” that is caught between cultures. This multicultural representation is not only because of her biracial heritage, but because she wholly lived in two cultures at different times in her life – the Native American reservations and the distinctly American education system. Her stories uncover “the complex pressures that American Indian intellectuals faced at the turn of the twentieth-century” and how the “policies of the U.S. government and several other institutions aimed to dispossess tribal peoples of their communally held land, their indigenous languages, and many of their cultural practices.”[23] The effect of these policies on her people fueled Zitkála-Ša’s activism and her pursuit of a different “American dream” than that of Wilder. Zitkála-Ša’s “American dream” consisted of a desire for respect for her culture and status among American society equal to that of the white majority. Despite these challenges and her tangential relationship with both of her identities, her “success […] as both an author and an activist offers a remarkable example of how one woman navigated this challenging terrain.”[24]

Moreover, when one analyzes more specific themes within their respective texts of Wilder and Zitkála-Ša, one can further see how each of their stories embody the “American experience.”

When many conceptualize the “American experience,” it is often centered on one’s residential environment. In particular, the suburban home with the white picket fence is “a kind of shorthand for Americana,”[25] and the “American experience” is generally evocative of a house in a suburban neighborhood. Though this image only represents one facet of the “American experience,” the physical home and its proximity to others “encourage[s] neighborly interaction” and “conversation” which is indicative of American culture.[26] This theme is explored in other emblems of America including the Statute of Liberty, also known as the “Mother of Exiles,” which perfectly epitomizes the welcoming, neighborly environment of America as “the Statue’s uplifted torch did not suggest ‘enlightenment,’ as her creators intended, but rather, ‘welcome’” while the Statue gave “hope to generations of immigrants” seeking a new life.[27] Thus, whether or not those entering through Ellis Island wished to become “steelworkers in Pittsburgh,” “meatpackers in Chicago,” or “tailors in New York City’s garment district,”[28] these immigrants were all welcomed with the Statue of Liberty hospitably inviting the “tired [and] poor […] huddled masses” to their new home in America.[29] Thus, while Americans may have drastically different physical dwellings, the interactions within and around those dwellings more explicitly express the “American experience.”

Emphasizing the significance of the physical home as a representation of culture, Zitkála- Ša describes her home in the opening line of “My Mother” in Impressions of an Indian Childhood as “a wigwam of weather-stained canvas.”[30] To further understand the physical space of Zitkála-Ša’s home environment, it is important to understand that a wigwam is a cone shaped Native American shelter “built for easy disassembling and reassembling” made from wooden poles that were “placed upright, and the top ends were gathered together and bound.”[31] To provide respite from the elements, “large strips of bark or animal hides were wrapped around the frame in layers and then sewn to the structure” with moss or grass mats used to reinforce the walls in harsher environments.[32] In lieu of doors and floors, animal hides served as covers for the shelter opening and as mats, “making it comfortable to sleep and sit on.”[33] A fire pit was centered in wigwam where “families gathered around to cook, eat and talk about their day” with the smoke escaping “through a hole at the top of the wigwam.”[34] For embellishment of their homes, women “decorated the inner walls with designs of nature or animals.”[35] While this does not exactly describe Zitkála-Ša’s own wigwam, this depiction helps one better imagine the setting of the stories within Impressions of an Indian Childhood.

In contrast to Zitkála-Ša’s wigwam, Wilder’s home, featured in the title of Little House on the Prairie, was a one-room log cabin built by her father, Charles “Pa” Ingalls. Over several chapters, Wilder describes the process –in detail – by which her home was built and furnished with the requirements for a home: four walls, windows, a door, a roof, a floor, and a hearth. The materials to build the house are gathered from the creek bottom near the location of their camp with the majority of the construction materials crafted from wood hewn from logs cut down by her father. Rocks were stacked and held together by a mixture of mud to form the hearth and lower chimney basin while the upper chimney was crafted using sticks and mud. Wilder dedicates an entire chapter to the carpentry of creating a door and a latchkey to protect the family from the wild prairie. Inside, the house was furnished with wooden bedsteads, a rocking chair, a table, a cabinet to store precious materials like tobacco and sugar, and ticks filled with dried grass from the prairie to sleep on. The final touches to the house included the addition of a “little china woman on the mantel-shelf” and a “red-checked cloth on the table” placed by Caroline, Wilder’s mother, who remarked, “Now we’re living like civilized folks again.”[36]

The differences between their physical housing structures certainly highlight the differences between their cultures. Without a lockable door, the Zitkála-Ša’s wigwam allows for the culture of the Plains Native Americans to come through where “sharing is valued, and charity to the poor was common.”[37] Whereas, the intricately engineered latch that Wilder’s father  fashioned from wood ensured that they could keep out those that they did not want to enter and protect their property from being stolen. Furthermore, the possible depictions of nature in the wigwam emphasize a connection with the environment while the porcelain figurine and the tablecloth represent her “stamps of domesticity on a previously untamed place.”[38] Finally, the permanence of the cabin compared to the wigwam also demonstrates the “manifest destiny” of the pioneer culture; the settlers established homes to claim land as their own, whereas, the semi- permanent wigwams emphasized the nomadic nature of the tribes who determined their location by following the buffalo.

Nevertheless, their homes – regardless of their differences – embody the “American experience” and are used as tools to perpetuate the welcoming spirit of American culture. For example, in “The Coffee-Making,” Zitkála-Ša describes the visit of an “old grandfather who had often told [her] Iktomi legends” who happened upon her wigwam while her mother was away and “at once [Zitkála-Ša] began to play the part of a generous hostess” and attempted to serve coffee and unleavened bread “with the air of bestowing generous hospitality.”[39] Reflecting on the incident, she realized that the “coffee” she made was “worse than muddy warm water,” and, despite this, the visitor, “whom the law of [their] custom had compelled to partake of [her] insipid hospitality,” did not remark or embarrass her for her attempt and instead treated her with the “utmost respect.”[40] Similarly to Zitkála-Ša’s story, Wilder describes how her mother Caroline welcomed their neighbor Mr. Edwards, who aided Pa with building the house, with “an especially good supper because they had company” and how they reserved “white sugar when company came.”[41] Later in Little House on the Prairie, Wilder paints a vivid story of Mr. Edwards’ harrowing adventure to Independence, Missouri and back for the sole for the sole purpose of providing Laura and her sister, Mary, with Christmas gifts which are hung in the stockings on the hearth of their cabin. Though of varying cultures, these stories illustrate how the home is used for a mechanism for extending hospitality to others. Despite the welcoming nature of the hosts in each story, their hospitality becomes limited when it comes to providing for the “other.”

While these exclusionary practices towards those of a different culture might seemingly contradict the hospitality and welcoming nature of Americans, these practices, in fact, represent another theme in the “American experience.”

Despite the welcoming and hospitable nature of Americans and the composition of the United States as nation of immigrants and, therefore, a collection of many identity groups, the “American experience” also includes the practice of “othering” those who are not within one’s identity group. Othering, as defined by John Powell and Stephen Menendian in the inaugural issue of Othering and Belonging published by the Haas Institute for a Fair and Inclusive Society at the University of California, Berkeley, is “a term that […] encompasses the many expressions of prejudice on the basis of group identities” and “provides a clarifying frame that reveals a set of common processes and conditions that propagate group-based inequality and marginality.”[42] Americans have used this practice of othering to marginalize groups since its inception. For example, politicians in the early 1800s manipulated the “fears of slave revolts” and used the “othering” of enslaved African Americans to “strengthen and reinforce the ramparts of racial  slavery in the South, as well as to reinforce federal proslavery legislation, including the Fugitive Slave laws.”[43] Later in the 19th century, the “‘know-nothing movement arose in response to waves of Irish and German immigrants” which discriminated against these groups “not only on the basis of their ethnicity but also their religion” due to a fear of the “spread of ‘papist’ designs.”[44] Each generation of Americans, it seems, shifts to a different “other” and continues this fear and prejudice of those unfamiliar to them.

Because of the tradition of “othering” in the “American experience,” it is not surprising that the mothers of both Zitkála-Ša and Wilder further perpetuate disdain for the “other” to their children. Zitkála-Ša’s mother, Tate Iyohi Win, sews distrust of the “palefaces,” her derogatory term for the white settlers she encounters, and Caroline, Wilder’s mother, does not hide her fear and disdain for the natives they encounter while in the prairie, often calling them “wild men.” With influence over their children’s perspectives, the mothers in these stories sow the seeds of prejudice and actively foster the continued practice of “othering” among their offspring.

In “My Mother,” Zitkála-Ša describes how her mother’s opinions of the “paleface” influenced her at a young age. In the story, Zitkála-Ša asks the question, “Mother, who is this bad paleface?” with genuine curiosity.[45] Her mother goes on to stated that, “He is a sham, – a sickly sham!” and that “the bronzed Dakota is the only real man.”[46] She goes on to describe how she perceived her mother’s unhappiness which “aroused revenge in [her] small soul” causing her to cry aloud, “‘I hate the paleface that makes my mother cry!”[47] Furthermore, Tate Iyohi Win insists that the “palefaces” are responsible for the death of her brother and her other daughter by stating, “We were once very happy. But the paleface has stolen our lands and driven us hither. Having defrauded us of our land, the paleface forced us away.”[48]

Wilder’s mother, Caroline, also promotes “othering” with her children and actively discourages her daughter’s curiosity in seeing the Native Americans who lived nearby. When inquiring about where she could see a papoose, or a Native American child, Caroline remarks, “Whatever makes you want to see Indians? We will see enough of them. More than we want to, I wouldn’t wonder.”[49] When her daughter inquires, “Why don’t you like Indians, Ma?,” Caroline states that “I just don’t like them” without further explanation.[50] Furthermore, Caroline is not the only character in the story that espouses an “othering” of the natives that live near their homestead. Mrs. Scott, a distant neighbor of the Ingalls family, further spews her distrust of the Native Americans by stating, “Land knows, they’d never do anything with this country themselves. All they do is roam around over it like wild animals. Treaties or no treaties, the land belongs to folks that’ll farm it. That’s only common sense and justice.”[51] Wilder continues to write that Mrs. Scott, “did not know why the government made treaties with Indians” and that “the only good Indian was a dead Indian” and finally, that “the very thought of Indians made her blood run cold.”[52]

With these strong statements of contempt for the “other” by figures close to them, it is no wonder why Zitkála-Ša and Wilder recalled these memories so vividly and recorded them in their autobiographical works. Because “prejudice is learned through living in and observing a society where prejudices exist” and that prejudice in children “does not come from [their] awareness of differences among people, but from their perception of negative attitudes about those differences,” Zitkála-Ša and Wilder’s childhood opinions are shaped by their mothers’ negativity towards the “palefaces” and the Native Americans, respectively.[53] Each author internalized the opinions of the “other” so much so that both Zitkála-Ša and Wilder’s writings are used as archetypes to describe the impressions that their identity groups had of the “other” during their time period of American history. Unfortunately, the passing down of one’s prejudices to future generations is a long standing American tradition and continues to this day.

In studying the lives of Laura Ingalls Wilder and Zitkála-Ša, we can see that while the “American experience” may be colored by one’s ethnic identity, their life paths, welcoming spaces, and treatment of the “other,” it is more similar than different. Though Wilder’s childhood experiences depicted in Little House on the Prairie represent that of pioneer culture and Zitkála- Ša’s Impressions of an Indian Childhood represent that of a Native American youth growing up on a reservation, their autobiographical stories embody that of their greater American culture.

In each of their stories, authors illustrate how their physical homes are used as spaces for welcoming their neighbors and simultaneously an exclusion of the “other.” While these ideas may be seemingly contradictory, they are not mutually exclusive. Americans can both be welcoming towards those that are of the same culture because their neighbors are familiar to them and prejudiced towards those who are different because they are unfamiliar to them. Interestingly, if Americans like Zitkála-Ša and Wilder realized that they were more similar than they were different, perhaps they would not perceive their identity groups as the “other.”

Guest Essayist bio:

Maggie Speck-Kern has always been an avid supporter and appreciator of the arts – from theater and dancing to music and fine arts. She has worked in the museum field where she held positions in the curatorial departments of two state museums in Arkansas. So it isn’t surprising that she loves learning about local history and American culture.

She holds a Master of Arts in Nonprofit Management, and will complete a Master of Arts in American Culture Studies at Washington University in St. Louis in 2025.

Learn more about Zitkála-Šá, and the
difficult history of a time when indigenous peoples were
forced from their ancestral lands, banned from practicing their traditions,
and pressured to assimilate here.